When I have a headache, I come to veranda. When I feel elevated, I come to veranda. When I wish to bathe in sunshine, I come to veranda. When it rains, I come to veranda. I watch the sunset from my veranda. I watch the night faint away from my veranda. When I am nostalgic, I come to veranda. When I am in jovial mood, I come to veranda. When I loose myself, I come to veranda; and when I regain myself, I come to veranda.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

The Rose from the top

I live in the second cum top floor of an apartment. There is a small patch of land in fornt of the building. The ground floor residents normally take care of this piece of free land for gardening or something else. The ground floor residents of my building had started planting some seasonal flowers last year. Their enthusiasm has died down. Its now all full of weeds and grass, with few young trees of Mango, Papaya, etc. Nevertheless it is still all the same beautiful. A green carpet on the land. Well, my neighbourhood, or rather the colony I live in has a leisurely landscape - relaxing, spacious and green.When I come back from office, I watch down from my balcony for a bird's eye view of this piece of land. It soothes me. In fact, when the gardening in this piece of land was in process by the ground floor residents, it was not so beautiful. half ploughed land, few saplings, patches of manure lying here and there... an untidy mess. Then the saplings started growing in rows. The green rows on brown field from looked very artificial from the top. Then came flowers. Beautiful, it looked.By this monsoon, all the plants have died. The aboriginal grass and weeds have covered the land. There is no beautification, but it is now more beautiful than the garden. Nature knows wonders.Today when I looked down in the evening, I discovered a single rose trying to pull itself amidst the mass of green. An off-white rose. Lonely. Beautiful. Natural.